He let loose a rueful laugh. “Your horse is the real hero. He put up with me.”
I picked up my head. “Wait, where—”
“Jay has him,” Spencer said, but the words were tight and laced with fury. “Spets is fine.”
I searched his expression as my suspicions from earlier solidified. “It was Jay.”
“Yes, but stop talking.”
“You stop talking,” I fired back.
Red and blue lights swirled through the living room windows, filtering dimly into my bedroom. I sighed lightly. “Spencer, you’re alright, though?”
“I am,” he assured me. He didn’t look alright. He looked like he was barely hanging onto consciousness himself.
“I think my tab with you is too big,” I huffed. “I can’t pay you back.”
“Stop. Talking,” he growled.
“I was going to even it out by saving y—”
Spencer surged up, planting his hands on either side of my shoulders, and his lips pressed against mine. He kissed me softly but with the kind of firm resolve that was clearly meant to shut me up. As paramedics entered the house, he pulled away, his tired eyes dancing. “Pay me back by letting me love you.”
My breath hitched, catching on a sudden wave of emotion that had been buried under immediate terror. “Can I love you back?”
The paramedics ran in, and Spencer tapped my nose with his. “Took you long enough.”
Chapter thirty-three
Spencer
Frost:
Hi, I'm resigning as Spencer's best friend.
Reed:
Ooh, is there an opening? Rook is rebuffing my affections.
Wells:
I thought Rook was Spencer's BFF
Frost:
It's a TIER not a PERSON. You're going to get kicked off, too, you crumpet.
Wells:
That is not, in fact, an English insult.
Reed:
Sorry, is this still about Spencer moving away?
Frost:
It's about him almost dying in a hospital and not saying a word about it.
